Implicit Reliance
by oddribbits
Summary: A new resident of 221 Baker Street causes James Moriarty to lose his memory. Mycroft has him put under close observation and insists he stay with Sherlock. The only question, will Moriarty ever get his memory back? (Sheriarty, Slow Burn, Rating May Change)
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, Sherlock, moping again?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she popped in, her cheery demeanor darkening Sherlock's already melancholy mood. He paused in his violin playing to regard the woman with an almost icy stare.

"I do not mope Mrs. Hudson. Nor do I sulk, before you make that equally ridiculous accusation." He droned in his deep baritone. His sharp ears could hear someone, most likely a female, talking downstairs. A phone conversation, it sounded like. Or an individual who heard voices in their head.

"Tea, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she helped herself to Sherlock's kitchen.

"Yes, fine." Sherlock consented, sensing the older lady had further business, but knowing she'd get there in her own time.

"Sherlock, are you interested in meeting a potential neighbor?" She asked, setting the kettle on.

"Dull." He spat as he set his violin in the case and went to sit in his chair, his dressing gown billowing out behind him as he moved.

"She's really a lovely girl." Mrs. Hudson tried to coerce, "And I know you've been so lonely since John left."

"I'm not lonely, why would you think I'm-"

Mrs. Hudson held up a stack of photographs from his kitchen table. Photos of John, Mary, and their daughter, Kyla.

"I was making something." Sherlock defended. "Since John and Mary are too busy most days to make one, I was putting together a photo album." He refused to look at the older woman, as she was beaming at her tenant in a heartfelt manner.

"That's very sweet of you, Sherlock. Well, I think she'll be taking the basement then. Unless you would like to try her out as a flat mate."

"Not interested." He huffed, his ears perking up as someone, most likely the girl, started coming up the stairs to his flat, pausing half way up.

"Mrs. Hudson?" Female, American.

"Up here, dear. I've put tea on." His landlady's response made Sherlock scowl.

The young woman made her way up the rest of the stairs and took a few tentative steps into Sherlock's flat. She couldn't have been more than twenty-two. Thin and a little shorter than average. She stood straight, her shoulders tense. Nervous. She gave him a small, lopsided smile.

She was of a milky caramel complexion, with dark eyes and inky black hair that cascaded down her back. She wore black thick-rimmed glasses and was dressed in a midnight blue blouse and dark jeans that were almost skin tight. On her feet were a pair of black silver studded flats. She had a dove grey messenger bag made of durable cloth slung across her chest.

Sherlock watched as her eyes took in as much of his flat as they could. Sherlock doubted she observed half as much about him as he did about her.

"Hello, I'm Erin." She volunteered her name, the few seconds since her halfhearted smile having passed in silence.

"Sherlock Holmes." He said nothing more to her. Seeing as his deductions had already been made, he resumed paying her no mind.

"Nice place. Have you lived here long?" She asked, venturing a few more steps in.

"Does that matter?" He snapped.

Erin's lips turned down for a fraction of a second before she gave Sherlock an awkward smile. "I suppose it doesn't."

"Sherlock, don't be rude." Mrs. Hudson gently reprimanded. As she brought a tea tray in and set it down on the coffee table.

"No, it's alright. No damage." Erin soothed, her calm demeanor making Sherlock narrow his eyes.

"Here you are dear." Mrs. Hudson held out a cup of tea for the girl. Erin took the few steps to take the offered cup with Sherlock's eyes upon her.

"Oh." He breathed the word so it was drawn out, his observations falling together.

Mrs. Hudson gave him a sharp look. "Don't start Sherlock." She warned.

Erin looked between the two, a polite but questioning smile on her face. "Sorry, am I missing something?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but Mrs. Hudson quickly cut him off. "He has a unique talent. He can deduce everything about you. Most people get offended when he does though."

Sherlock huffed.

"Let's hear it then." Erin prompted, her face showing her curiosity.

"American, foster child until your mid-teens, when you ran away. You've worked hard to get here and have been in London two days and are in a hurry to find somewhere to live. Two-two-one was not your first choice, but here you are. So, you've upped your price range and you can't just be a student to afford it. You have a large amount of money saved, possibly a trust fund. You also have trust issues with your boyfriend." Sherlock's lips twitched up momentarily at the young woman's stunned expression.

It took a moment for her to recover, "How did you know that?"

"The way you speak tells me American. No indications of any other nationalities. The way you pronounce certain syllables leads me to believe Oklahoma."

He quickly jabbed his finger towards her bag "The insignia on your bag clearly says Oklahoma as well, so there's my confirmation there. You paused and hesitated to enter my flat and have been hard pressed to move anywhere near me, but you have no problem approaching Mrs. Hudson. You have a subconscious fear of men. One must wonder why. Early childhood trauma most likely, probably at the hands of your father."

He was staring intently at her face, his eyes unsettling her as she forced herself not to look away. "By the fact that your left leg is a prosthetic and too short, I'd say you've had it awhile. When did you stop growing? At age fifteen, sixteen? You haven't paid attention to that leg for a while, so you had that prosthetic put on a few years prior to the end of your growth spurt. Why have you gone so long without replacing it? Negligence is an option, but no, that's not it. You would have had care takers, in theory."

He paused to take a breath, "A missing limb and fear of males leads me to believing those care takers were not your parents. So, foster care. You ran away, and since still to this day you've yet to replace the limb, you were never caught and it faded to the very back of your mind. Clearly clever and you wouldn't be standing here if you hadn't worked hard. Taking your studies abroad isn't cheap. You had to work for this opportunity."

He pointed towards her eyes and then her bag again. "You have clear signs of exhaustion in your eyes and your passport is clearly visible in the mesh compartment of your bag, you haven't adjusted your watch yet. But you obviously aren't fresh off the plane either as you have no luggage in tow. So, jetlagged and staying in a hotel. Seeing as the new school year starts soon, I'd imagine you'd want to be settled quickly. Why else would you go out exhausted to look at flats? You have ads stored with your passport, some circled and marked out. Shall I go on?" He fixed her with a bored expression.

"No, I… I get it." Erin took a deep breath, "That's amazing. Eerie, but amazing."

"Did I get anything wrong?" Sherlock asked, swelling with pride, confident what he had spouted off was not wrong.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, "I have a girlfriend. Well, fiancé, these days."

Sherlock sighed. "Always something." He narrowed his eyes at her. "No ring."

Erin pulled a chain out from under her shirt. "We got them secondhand, luckily hers fit. It's not your fault, these are things anyone could miss."

Sherlock let out a huff, "Perhaps you won't be such an insufferable neighbor after all." He allowed, suddenly perking up as his phone chimed.

"I'll sign her then, shall I?" Mrs. Hudson asked, as Sherlock regarded his phone with hopeful eyes.

He nodded his consent as he stood from his chair swiftly, a smile spread across his face. "Lestrade has a case. I should phone John, I may need him. Must run." He made excuses as he abandoned his dressing gown for his Belstaff. Things were looking up at 221B.

Erin lived at 221 Baker Street for three months when the night rolled around that would change Baker Street forever.

It started with a call, as usual. Erin had been bringing in a bit of shopping as Sherlock and Doctor Watson came barreling down the stairs.

"Off and out, boys?" She asked, stepping out of the way.

"Yes. Triple homicide. The only clues left behind are a cactus and a tube sock, according to Lestrade." Sherlock started, looking pleased as punch.

"Sounds right up your alley." Erin chuckled.

Sherlock gave her a lopsided smile as he wound his scarf around his neck. "Well, I shouldn't bother you much tonight."

"Be safe!" She called after them. Doctor Watson turned and waved before he ducked into the cab behind the consulting detective.

Erin dropped her shopping off in her kitchen, abandoning it for her work, which was stored in the only bedroom of 221C. As she settled in, she briefly thought of the man she worked for. He expected results from her research. And soon.

Erin pulled out her notes and loaded her last test results onto her tablet. She was almost ready to start chemical trials on humans. She was so close to getting the results he wanted. It was just a matter of getting the chemicals active time to a manageable state. She was just reaching for her safety goggles when her mobile began ringing. Her employer. Important business, no doubt.

"Sir. Erin speaking. The chem-"

"There is no time for that right now, I'm afraid. You're about to have a very unwelcome visitor. Arm yourself. I'm sending back up to your location." His calm voice set her on edge.

"I understand." She responded, immediately going to her desk and opening the top drawer to retrieve her hand gun.

"Protect yourself and your research at all costs." With that, the call was ended and only a second later, the door to her flat was kicked in.

"Oh, my lovely little chem~ist." A male voice sing-songed. "Do come out and play." Irish accent.

Erin swallowed as she flicked the safety off before raising the gun and walking out of her work space.

The man was someone she recognized. Her employer had been thorough in telling her how dangerous this man was.

He raised his eyebrows as a half-smile quirked up his lips. His eyes, subtly alight, were inky dark like his hair. His suit was a lighter toned grey.

"Now, it that any way to greet a house guest, Ms. Stevens?"

She didn't flinch at the fact he knew her name. Her real name, not the alias she had been assigned. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Moriarty?" Erin asked, keeping the gun aimed at him.

"I think we both know why I'm here. The chemical that you've been ordered to work the kinks out of. I want it. And I'm willing to pay. Handsomely… Or, given your apparent reluctance, I could just kill you."

She fought the urge to smile. "We're in a basement level flat. You're snipers won't work here."

"Oh. You know that old trick, do you? My, my. Holmes certainly is thorough isn't he? Tell me, does Sherlock know?"

When Erin remained silent, Jim shrugged, his eyebrows raised. "Not one for conversation?" He asked, feigning disappointment.

"Not when I feel my life or work is being threatened, no!" She scoffed, despite herself.

He gestured over her shoulder with two fingers. "Is that were you keep it? I'd very much like to take a peek."

"Drop dead." Erin growled, trigger finger giving an involuntary twitch.

Moriarty looked amused as he shook his head. "If you don't watch your tone, that's exactly WHAT YOU'LL DO!"

Erin tensed, being shouted at put her on edge quicker than anything else. Years of abuse had a funny way of doing that to people.

Moriarty took a moment to reign his temper in. "It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow. But if I don't have your full cooperation, I'll find you. No matter where you try and hide. And I'll slit you from gut to gullet and watch your innards pool on the floor."

Erin couldn't stop the laugh that sounded half forced from escaping her. She noticed this caused a vein in the side of Moriarty's neck to start jumping. She had made him angry.

"What's sooo funny?"

"You wouldn't be the first to try."

The smile he gave her clashed with the cruel look in his eyes. "Go around making a lot of enemies then?"

"Not on purpose, let me assure you."

"I find that hard to believe. Now, with the civilities out of the way, let's go take a look at your work. I find myself more than a little curious about this "Wonder Drug"."

Erin scoffed at the idea of his threat being anywhere in the range of "civil", but she lowered her gun as he walked towards her. She tensed as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Everyone has their price. Just name yours."

She jerked her ear away, gripping the gun tighter. He chuckled, amused, before continuing towards her work space. She resignedly followed him into her lab, hoping her back up wasn't going to take much longer. She did love her job, she just didn't want to die for it.

Moriarty was slowly circling the equipment, peering at the subtle changes of the serum as it went through the concentrating process. Many moons had seen Erin take its color from a deep, muddy amber to a subtle rose water pink.

"How close is it to being done?" Moriarty asked, picking up a sample of the highest strength she had yet produced. He shook the delicate vial gently a he stared into the light through it.

"Until testing and results are completed, I don't know. The effects haven't yet been test. I've been pushing for clearance to start testing for-"

"Get Your Hands Up Now!" An armored man shouted as he rushed into the room closely followed by three others. All wore similar armor and carried high caliber rifles, all aimed at Moriarty.

Erin jumped when they charged into the room, her hand going to her chest. Moriarty only smiled a shit-eating grin as he raised his arms, vial still clenched in his hand.

"Ms. Stevens, are you alright?" A man with chestnut hair and hard eyes, who stood with impeccable posture, waited just outside the doorway to her makeshift laboratory.

"Yes, sir. I'm fine."

A dark chuckle made her eyes flash to Moriarty.

"Too little, too late." And with those words, he crushed the vial. The glass shattered and the serum entered his blood stream. Erin stood with her mouth agape. Moriarty flinched, his eyes screwing shut, no doubt at the burning sensation now coursing through his veins. When his eyes opened, he seemed dumbfounded to have four guns aimed right at him and blood no doubt staining his expensive Westwood suit.

"Um… Excuse me, I seem to be bleeding. Can someone he-"

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Erin's heart dropped. Sherlock was home.

Mycroft, being the only one outside the room, had a clear view of the door to 221C. There stood Sherlock, John, and Gregory, who was giving him an apologetic and sheepish look.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, exasperated. 'Imbecile!' he snarled in his head, fixing Gregory with a look.

"Hello, brother mine."

-End Chapter One-

So, welcome to my new story. I have never written a Sherlock fiction before, so bear with me. I'm writing this for a friend who claimed there were no decent Sheriarty stories (I'm sure she was just looking in the wrong places), so she asked me to write and now, look what I've done. By all means, let me know what you think, if you wish. This is a slow(ish) burn. I've not had anyone proof-read, so all mistakes are mine (I'm also not British).


	2. Chapter 2

"You work for my brother." Sherlock snarled, it was not a question, but an accusation.

"Yes." Erin sighed, looking him in the eye. No point in lying or keeping secrets now.

The detective was now standing beside his brother in silent fury, eyes trained on his lying neighbor. His lips turned down. "Spying on me?"

"Sherlock, please, we don't have time for your petty concerns."

"Petty! I asked you to trust me. So forgive me for assuming we had honestly got past the bribery and spying!"

"Excuse me?" A hesitant, pleading voice. All eyes that could turned to Moriarty, who was clenching at the wrist of his still bleeding hand. "This… really isn't pleasant. Would one of you help me?"

"Is that Moriarty!?" John cried, rushing to see. He had remained standing awkwardly with Greg by the broken front door as Sherlock confronted his brother and Erin.

He took in the sight before him and scoffed. "Sorry, you're trying to get us to _help_ you? You've got some nerve."

"Please, I don't know _who_ you people are or-or-or _why_ you had me held at gun point! I- I don't even know who _I_ am, but, please-"

"Are you kidding me? You think we're going to believe this?" John asked, incredulous, "After everything you've put us through." He made a show of looking around, "Am I the only one hearing this?"

Moriarty fell to his knees, still terrified and beginning to shake. "Please, I'm not… I'm not lying." His voice bordered on hysterical.

"Bollocks." Lestrade ground out.

"He's telling the truth." Erin spoke up, the room going silent as the tension increased. She internally cringed when Mycroft gave her a stern look, but stepped toward Moriarty. "Mr. Holmes, mind telling these men to sod off? I don't think he's a threat anymore."

As she spoke, she pulled a first aid kit off a shelf and opened it. She took a moment to flick on an extra light, so as to be able to see Moriarty's wounds better.

"Gentlemen, thank you for your time. You may stand down and disperse."

The armed men left, silently as they had entered. Highly trained stealth assassins. Four! In her flat for one unarmed man. Erin took out a pair of latex gloves and pulled them on before gently placing her hands on Moriarty's shoulders to help him up.

"I'm going to help you. I'm sorry about all this, but we're going to see what can be done to… fix this." She spoke hesitantly, not sure how Mycroft Holmes wanted to handle this.

"Why won't those men help me?" He flinched as Erin pulled his injured hand toward her.

"It's complicated. I don't know what I should and should not tell you. We'll have to discuss it with Mr. Holmes and Sherlock." Erin murmured as she used a pair of tweezers to pull glass out of his hand. "This is going to need stitches." She spoke her next words hesitantly, glancing at the doctor, "Perhaps Doctor Watson-"

"No, Doctor Watson certainly will not." John put in.

She sighed in frustration. "The vow they have you take doesn't mean much to you does it?"

"Not when it comes to him, no." John answered sternly.

She felt a surge of annoyance. "Take them upstairs, please. I don't need gawkers!" She snapped at Mycroft.

Mycroft cleared his throat, his feathers ruffled at being spoken to in such a manner. "Ms. Stevens." The tone in which he spoke had her shoulders tensing as she felt his eyes boring into the back of her head.

"Sorry, sir." Erin mumbled.

Mycroft seemed placated, as his next words were aimed at Sherlock, John, and Lestrade. "Upstairs please, gentlemen. Ah, but Gregory. If I may have a brief word?"

Greg pursed his lips, but stayed as John and Sherlock reluctantly left, having an idea of what was coming. His head was bowed but he was looking up at Mycroft with his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"When I told you what was happening here, you rushed over with my brother and John despite my specific instructions not to. Why?" Mycroft asked, tone crisp and professional.

"You know Sherlock's methods, Myc." Mycroft huffed at the name, turning his face away in annoyance. "I can't keep stuff like this from him. It took him all of three seconds to figure out something was wrong."

"Are you so incompetent you couldn't keep him away? Thirty more minutes was all I would have needed, Gr- Detective Inspector." Mycroft caught himself. Such familiarity was no longer acceptable between them.

"I'm sorry, alright?" Lestrade said, exasperated, "I'm not a bloody miracle worker!" He lowered his voice, looking deeply into the elder Holmes' eyes. "And you are still allowed to call me Greg, you know." Lestrade then gave Mycroft a sly half smile he knew made Mycroft weak in the knees.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade," Mycroft ground out, "I would appreciate you _not_ allowing our past… _relationship_," The way Mycroft sneered the word made Greg's smile fall, "To interfere with the level of professionalism required at the moment."

Lestrade huffed, deflated. He had hoped a few months apart would improve Mycroft's sudden and unexpected reversion to being against the idea of relationships. But Mycroft was right, personal problems aside, they had bigger things to deal with.

Gregory gave one curt nod. "Of course, _Mr. Holmes._"

Mycroft's gaze darkened at the implied insubordination. "Ms. Stevens."

Erin swallowed, sensing the tension. "Sir?"

"We will be upstairs waiting for you. Work as quick as you can and then bring Moriarty up." With that, Mycroft strode from the room.

Lestrade took a moment, rubbing his face with his hand, before he glanced up at Erin. "Do you need any help?"

"Oh, um," Sensing Lestrade was only seeking an excuse to stay away from Mycroft, she quickly wracked her brain, "Ah, could you lock the vials away for me?" She asked, inclining her head towards the counter where said vials lay.

"Yes." A pause. "Thank you."

"Things seem a little tense between the two of you." Erin ventured, spraying disinfectant on Moriarty's hand before starting to stitch it up. Moriarty cringed. "Sorry." She whispered. He looked up at her with terrorized eyes.

Lestrade chose his words carefully. He didn't want his words to get back to Mycroft. "Yeah. A bit. I don't know. Not that long ago, we were fine… happy."

"Mr. Holmes may just need time, Detective Inspector. I understand he isn't accustomed to relationships." Erin offered, trying to be reassuring, then quickly ducked her head after understanding that her words revealed more than Mycroft Holmes was aware she knew. "Sorry. I didn't mean… I just _hear_ things. Around the office, sometimes."

Lestrade smiled kind heartedly at her, "No worries."

For a while they worked in silence, until Lestrade had all the vials tucked into a box that automatically locked when he shut the lid. "What should I do with this?" Lestrade asked, lifting the box.

"Just leave it. Only I'm allowed to know where it is stored." Erin explained, finishing up the stitches. "Will you take Mr. Moriarty up? I should clean up a bit."

Lestrade nodded and made Moriarty walk in front of him as they headed up the stairs to 221B. When they entered, Sherlock and Mycroft sat across from one another and John was pacing but he stopped as Moriarty walked in.

"Sit." Lestrade commanded in an authoritative tone, pointing at the couch.

Jim Moriarty, looking utterly lost, sat as instructed. Sherlock and John shared a look. They needed answers.

Shortly, Erin came in and sat on the couch beside Moriarty. She took his stitched hand and began wrapping it with bandages. Moriarty glanced up, caught John's eye and quickly looked down when John glared at him.

"Does someone want to start explaining?" John asked, looking between Erin and Mycroft.

Mycroft sighed. "I suppose this is my fault. Erin Smith, as she has been going by, is really working for me. Testing a chemical compound that erases memories. I put her here for security purposes. She was under heavy protection and I did not think anyone would trace her back to her work or her residence. I fear I may have a rat among my personnel. For that, I apologize. I will see to the matter immediately." He looked at Erin as he spoke these last words and she nodded her understanding.

Mycroft took a deep breath before continuing. "James Moriarty came here to retrieve the serum, either unaware or unconcerned about the heavy surveillance this place was under. My team spotted him within the five mile barrier and I had a team of highly trained agents sent out. Four came into the building, while eleven others searched the rooftops and interior of the surrounding buildings."

Sherlock huffed. "Get to the point! Are we to believe Moriarty has really lost his memory?"

Mycroft again looked to Erin. "Ms. Stevens?"

Erin suddenly felt small, all those eyes on her. "I believe so. I hadn't had time to conduct any actual trials on humans yet. I don't know anything about the effects it might have, or how long those effects will last. I wish I had better news but, " She shook her head, "I have no data. We just have to wait and see."

"Well, you know, this man once convinced the whole world that Sherlock was a fraud. Who's to say he isn't faking now? Some bloody _trick_!?" John asked, his anger rising.

Sherlock stood, going over to Moriarty, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit jacket and yanking him to his feet. Moriarty let out a low whine, grabbing onto Sherlock's wrists as the consulting detective stared into his eyes. "Please, no." Jim whispered, swallowing and watching the detective's eyes that were quickly moving about, reading Jim Moriarty.

Finally, after a few moment, Sherlock pushed the consulting criminal back down onto the sofa with a frustrated noise. "What do you suggest, then, brother mine?"

"Jim Moriarty stays here-"

"Absolutely not." John snapped, glaring at Mycroft.

"You don't live here, you don't get a vote." Mycroft snapped back in a tone that clearly said that John was not to speak again. "He stays here so that Ms. Stevens will get a chance to observe him and run her tests. It also allows us a chance to observe anyone who comes looking for him. We could dismantle what remains of his web. Win, win, as they say."

Sherlock sighed, looking away. "I suppose you're next going to tell me I should drink bleach, or a corrosive acid. Which would be preferable to babysitting a full grown man who has lost his memory."

Mycroft opened his mouth to try and reason or bully Sherlock into cooperating, whichever, when Jim Moriarty's phone began ringing. Silence, as all eyes turned to the wide eyed man. He flinched as Sherlock again moved towards him, again being grabbed by his suit jacket roughly. But this time, Sherlock's hand slipped into his jacket to retrieve his phone. A quick glance at the caller I.D. before he went to the window he had opened earlier at John's bequest (some nonsense about chemical fumes), and threw the phone out with more than enough force to break it.

"That was a nice phone!" Jim said, indignantly.

Suspicious, Sherlock again stepped into Jim's personal space. "How would you know that?" Jim leaned away, again timid. "I don't know. I just do. That was my phone, it was nice, and you've just chucked it out the window."

"Yes I have. Does that make you angry? Murderous, perhaps?" Sherlock asked, almost nose to nose with Jim.

Jim stared up into the detectives eyes, his fear had subsided, allowing his cheekiness to show. "A little cross, if I'm being honest."

Sherlock gave a little huff of amusement, turning to Erin. "How long will this last?"

"Around a month, if all my data is correct. Maybe less, maybe forever. I hadn't-"

"Yes, hadn't tested on humans." Sherlock finished, turning back to Mycroft. "Alright. I'll allow it. She has to work to find a cure though. I won't be stuck babysitting forever."

"Glad we could come to agreements." Mycroft said, not looking up from his phone. "I'll have you under close proximity surveillance."

Sherlock began to protest, but Mycroft continued. "We need to be sure no one tries to take him, Sherlock. This is to keep you safe. Please try to comprehend that I don't do these things just for the sole purpose of annoying you."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and went to stand by the window, looking out and watching as a car pulled up and Anthea got out of the back seat, walking towards the phone he had sent soaring out the window. "Your car is here."

"I am aware. I will send Anthea around tomorrow. Ms. Stevens, if you would, come with me. I have a team ready to work with you towards a cure."

"I'll just grab my things." Erin said, standing and quickly leaving the room.

"Mycroft you can't be serious!" John exclaimed, unable to stay silent any longer.

"Hush, John. Go home to Mary and your daughter. I'll be fine." Sherlock droned.

"That Man," John shouted, pointing at Moriarty, "Is Dangerous!"

"You seem to forget, Doctor, that so am I." Sherlock said, looking at John with a haughty air.

John was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched as he regarded Sherlock with concern.

"I'll be alright, John." Sherlock tried again, his voice taking on a softer note.

"Right." John breathed, resigned. "If you need me…"

"I won't, but I understand. Go home, John."

John nodded and left, passing Erin as she walked back upstairs, the case containing her vials handcuffed to her wrist. Mycroft had drilled clear instructions into her head. She also had her messenger bag slung across her back. "I'm ready sir."

Mycroft stood. "Please, if you need anything, let me know. I would send someone immediately."

Sherlock nodded, sitting back in his chair. "Good bye Mycroft." He spoke dismissively.

Mycroft paused as he passed Lestrade, sparing him a brief sideways glance. "Detective Inspector."

"Myc." Lestrade returned, tone equally as icy. Greg was pleased as punch when Mycroft's jaw clenched before he continued on his way downstairs, quickly followed by Erin.

They waited until the downstairs door closed before Sherlock and Lestrade shared a look. "Things still not quite right in paradise, Detective Inspector?" Sherlock asked in a condescending tone.

"Shut up. We're just… Oh, why do I even bother?" Lestrade asked himself as he gave a little huff of laughter. "No, we ended things on a bad note I guess."

"Mmmm…" Sherlock regarded him with amused eyes.

"Don't, you twat. Just don't." Lestrade warned, smiling despite himself. "These things don't always work out. Now, what are we going to do with this one?" Greg pointed to Moriarty, who appeared to have been in his own little world, just gently rubbing his bandaged hand with his thumb. Jim looked up when he realized he was 'this one'. He stared at first one then the other with wide eyes and a neutral expression, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"He can sleep in my bed, I suppose. I have experiments I need to closely observe and I don't get much sleep anyway. I…" Sherlock looked pained. "I may not be able to take many cases while we sort this out. Not anything less than a seven, anyway." Sherlock added, lest Greg completely cut him off.

Greg gave a single nod. "I understand. If you need me-"

Sherlock looked exasperated, regarding Lestrade with his best 'Don't be an idiot' look. Greg rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, okay? I know. But it's because we're worried."

"You don't need to be. I will be fine. He and I, once, were not so different. I just apply base knowledge of everyday life into his current memory and I shouldn't have to constantly keep tabs on him. He should still be smart enough to pick that up, at the very least."

"What if-"

"Its fine, Greg. If he suddenly remembers, or if he's been pretending, then I shall deal with it accordingly."

Lestrade sighed. "Alright. Alright." He ran a hand through his greying hair. "Still, you know. I don't think any of us really wanted to leave you alone with him."

"This is the best place for him. If he goes somewhere else, that stretches Mycroft's resources. If he goes to Mycroft's base of operations, he runs the risk of Moriarty remembering anything he's seen there once his memory comes back. I can handle myself." Sherlock finished in a matter of fact tone of voice.

"I know." Lestrade patted Sherlock's shoulder before turning to the door.

"Detective Inspector." Sherlock stopped him.

"Yes, Sherlock?" Greg asked, paused at the door.

"Mycroft is only pretending not to have romantic feelings anymore. He plays it well, but don't let him fool you." Greg looked sharply at the back of Sherlock's head. "I think he's just afraid. Don't stop trying. For my brother's sake, please prove him wrong."

Greg stood at the door a few more moments, letting the younger man's words sink in. "Thank you, Sherlock. Good night."

Sherlock waited until the D.I. had left, before he turned to Moriarty. "Is this a game?"

Jim blinked, confused. "No?"

Sherlock sighed, nothing had indicated that Moriarty was pretending. The fear, as far as he could tell, had been real. "Very well. Follow me." He demanded, standing from his chair.

Moriarty stood, uncertain. "Where are we going?"

"My bedroom."

This made Jim uneasy. He did not trust this tall, handsome stranger who was so angry and violent. Jim followed Sherlock anyway.

"This is the bathroom." Sherlock said, tapping a closed door. "And this is my bedroom, where you will sleep." Sherlock then silently moved to his dresser, extracting a pajama set he never wore. He tossed them onto the bed. "I shall be in the kitchen. Do not bother me unless absolutely necessary." With these last instructions, he left his room, closing the door and leaving Jim frightened and alone.

What is going to happen to me now, with these people in charge of me?

-End Chapter Two-

So, I decided to throw in some Mystrade on the side, which is not everyone's cup of tea. Risky move for my first Sherlock fic, I think. Also, Erin is only going to be a background character for most of this (hopefully) and will only pop up when I need her. I don't make OC's as main characters, I find most OC's are badly written. I write on here to improve myself and any feedback is very much appreciated. –M.S.


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